


A New Chapter

by DangerFloof



Series: A Two Parent, Two Bottles of Wine a Night Job [14]
Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Birthday, Complete, F/M, Family Feels, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Graduation, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerFloof/pseuds/DangerFloof
Summary: Louise turns eighteen, Zeke plans an extra-special date to mark the event, and Bob comes to terms with the new normal.
Relationships: Louise Belcher/Zeke (Bob's Burgers)
Series: A Two Parent, Two Bottles of Wine a Night Job [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1052096
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	1. ONE

June 14th, 11:30PM

Bob lies on his back staring at the bedroom ceiling in the dark. His wife lies beside him, her head resting on the good pillow, making occasional snorts in her sleep. The apartment is quiet. Gene is out with his friends—he’s never home anymore—but Bob figures he should get used to it, since Gene will officially fly the nest six days from now anyway. His youngest daughter paces her bedroom floor, which she often does at night, when she’s not muttering and shouting in her sleep. A faint smell of weed hits his nostrils, as it has regularly the past month. Bob always knew she never quit smoking, just learned to hide it better. Sometime in the past month she stopped hiding it at all, and Bob, who was far angrier at the _way_ he found out about her habit than the habit itself, decided, with Linda, to just ignore it. Learning to pick and choose your battles is an important life lesson—critical when raising children, and lesson one with a kid like Louise, who’s pretty much an adult now anyway.

Eventually, her door opens. She uses the bathroom, then pads down the hall and quietly takes the stairs. The front door closes behind her. He’s sure she’s going down to the basement, possibly to exercise, certainly to await her promised call from _him_.

Bob rolls onto his side and spoons Linda. She sighs softly and nestles against him. He kisses her shoulder absently and strokes her hair. Tina’s gone, settled into her little flat in Cambridge, well within biking distance of her classes. Gene’s as good as gone, and Louise—well, thank God for Linda.

Louse has been a bear this past week, particularly irritable towards her father, and he knows Lin is tired of acting as a buffer. While their relationship isn’t nearly as bad as it was after Linda’s heart attack, it’s been on a definite downturn since Louise graduated high school last Friday. Bob knows why; without classes to distract her, she has more time to brood. Those Flowers girls are leaving next month, Jessica and Rudy will go in August, and Zeke—

He frowns, subconsciously pulling his wife tighter against him. Louise will never admit it, of course, but Bob knows she’s worried she’ll be ghosted—that’s what the kids are saying nowadays, isn’t it? Bob’s still not sure if he hopes Zeke will or not, though he’s prepared to feel very worried for the guy’s safety if he does. He talked about it with Tina on their last call…how did she describe her sister? Oh yeah: mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Sounds about right.

Not that Zeke’s an innocent either. Bob’s made some inquiries about the guy, and learned just enough to know that he doesn’t want to investigate any further. He’d be more worried if his daughter weren’t so tough. He’s not surprised that Zeke has a reputation for partying—that likely accounts for Louise’s smoking habit. Bob’s also not shocked that Zeke has some sort of friendship with the One-Eyed Snakes.

_“Don’t worry Bob,” Critter assured him with an easy smile. “I’ve known him a while, he’s a good kid. And yer girl can hold her own.”_

So Critter and Mudflap were in on their secret too! Bob huffs into Linda’s hair, irritated at his own naiveté. It seems that everyone in town knew his daughter’s business before he did! He might as well walk around with “I’m oblivious!” written on his forehead.

“Bob, go back to sleep,” Linda whines softly.

Bob settles onto his back again. “Sorry, Lin. I was just…just thinking.”

Eyes still closed, she rolls over clumsily and curls up against his chest. “We’ll know how it goes soon enough.”

“Yeah.”

Something in his tone makes Linda lift her head a little, her eyes open but heavy-lidded. “You hopin’ he breaks up with her?”

Bob shrugs. “I know she won’t break up with him, at least not yet—she wants to prove everyone wrong. Do you?”

Linda answers him with a loud, nasal snore.

He sighs and kisses the graying head nestled against his shoulder. Being with Zeke would make his daughter happy, and he wants his little girl to be happy. He knows she’s not happy now, has been unhappy for months; her misery has eaten away at her, all but literally, leaving a tall, lanky girl with sharp cheekbones and poor sleep habits where his radiant baby had been.

Embarrassingly enough, he didn’t notice Louise’s weight loss until Tina mentioned it on her final visit home. That’s when everything clicked; Linda stocking the kitchen with single-serve protein drinks and bars, the jars of peanut butter that were full one day, and empty the next. Bob naturally assumed it was all part of another of Gene’s weird diets, though he never saw his son touch them. Louise still eats, he sees her do it, but now that he’s paying attention, he’s aware that it’s not much; she takes small portions and pushes most of it around her plate. How did he not notice it before?

Bob checks the time: it’s 11:40, just twenty minutes to go.

* * * * *

A little high—because weed and fury are the only things fueling her at this point—Louise slips out of the apartment, into the restaurant, and down to the basement. She plugs in her phone to charge it, and begins stretching out her shoulders. It seems she has a constant tension headache. Saffie’s right; it’s because she’s carrying all her stress in her neck and shoulders.

She tries to do a little light exercise, and is astonished that her heart just isn’t in it, her attention is scattered like confetti. That’s odd; other than smoking, the only thing that’s made the past three months tolerable—the last week or so especially—is exercise. Boxing. Running. Lifting. She even went to the pool once with Logan, which would have been more fun if he hadn’t been so damn smug because, competent swimmer that she is, she can’t swim faster than that dolphin. She’s perpetually sore, physically overworked, but she welcomes the pain. It gives her something to think about other than...well, everything else.

Louise gives up. She picks up her phone and sits on the floor. Ten ‘til midnight. _Crap!_

She opens up her Insta page and begins scrolling. Nobody’s posted anything interesting recently, so she begins looking back at her history. She smiles a little at the photos of her new belly button piercing, her graduation present to herself. Louise, Saffie, and Daffie went together, though the twins opted for septum piercings instead. Jessica tagged along as moral support, but refused any new piercings, something about…Louise can’t remember the exact words she used, the explanation went on and on…but something about Jewish law.

_“I mean, I’ll keep what I have,” Jess said, flicking the studs in her ears. “But no more.”_

It was a fun day. Jessica helped them all pick out jewelry, and held the twins’ hands as they took their turns. Then they went to Seedy Stevie’s, a Stevie Nicks themed vegan restaurant for lunch. The sweet potato fries were delicious, but the event inspired Louise’s new-found determination to create a black bean burger that doesn’t taste like dried-out bean dip.

There’s a ton of graduation pictures, everyone’s posted photos of grinning seniors in black caps and gowns. Her heart constricts a little looking at her friends and acquaintances, wondering how many of them will be nothing more than fond memories five years from now.

Jessica posted lots of photos from her graduation party/ _bat mitzvah_ /birthday party, and those please her better. It was so much fun, far better than Tammy’s mess, perhaps all the more so because it was smaller, simpler, less ambitious. There was a DJ, a self-serve Mexican food station for dinner, and a build-your-own-sundae bar for dessert, both stocked to accommodate any food restrictions. Louise thought the party was a total blast, though she didn’t get any of the religious stuff; Jessica and Rudy both laughed when she said she thought Hebrew sounds like Klingon.

Louise’s favorite snap is of Jess and herself with their arms around each other’s shoulders, smiling at Rudy as he took the picture. Jessica is wearing Louise’s present. Following Rudy’s recommendation, she bought Jessica a silver necklace with the Jewish version of her name, Yiska, written in Hebrew.

_“It’s perfect,” Jess gushed, and immediately put it on._

_Jessica’s family was full of brilliant grins and gushing exclamations that day. While loading up their bowls at the sundae bar, Jess finally told Louise exactly why her mother was so resistant to her conversion._

_“First she just thought it was a phase,” Jess said, casting a fond but exasperated look at Dr. Mom, who was laughing with Rabbi Rosenberg._

_“Phases,” Louise muttered. She and Jessica exchanged an eye-roll; why did adults automatically dismiss any new idea as “just a phase”?_

_“See, part of it is because traditionally, a rabbi turns away a convert three times before even discussing it, to test their sincerity.”_

_“But she’s not a rabbi, and you were already Jewish, just not Jewish-Jewish.”_

_“I know, it’s…I know. The other part...well, Mom was worried that I wasn’t ready for the harsher realities. Like, antisemitism and stuff. She wanted to make sure I could stand firm against opposition.”_

_“Come on, we watch the news!”_

_“That’s what I told her! But she said seeing vandalized synagogues on the news isn’t like literally scrubbing swastikas off of your grandparent’s gravestones. Or people telling you to your face that the Holocaust either didn’t happen or was exaggerated.”_

_“Damn…”_

_“Yeah, there’s a reason she moved out of Iowa.”_

Louise’s next-favorite picture is the one she took of the Pesto and Flowers twins. All four of them are cheesing it up with black loaner yarmulkes on their heads, Rudy and Jessica facepalming in the background.

So many prom pictures! All the usual couples—Jess and Rudy, Ollie and Saffie, Andy and Daffie—fill that section of her feed. Louise went with Daniel; the more time she spends around him the more she likes him, and Daniel, both gay and single, was glad to enjoy the evening with a pretty girl who wouldn’t misunderstand his attention. Like last year, it was very much a work event for Louise, and, not distracted by the possibility of sex, she made even more money than she did before.

_Too bad I looked like shit_ , she thinks to herself. Linda insisted that Louise couldn't wear last year's dress, so Louise rented one this time around, but, uninterested in prom, she waited until the last minute, and the only thing left that vaguely fit her was a gray sequined sheath. Even in the pictures it looks cheap, and it doesn’t fit, being a bit short for her long frame and baggy in the chest, as Louise is quite flat there now. Contrary to her mother’s assurances, the earrings and shoes she recycled from last prom didn’t elevate the look. She looks drawn and tired behind her smiles.

Sitting in the basement, her mood lifts a bit, teasing up a small smile as she looks through photos. So many good times, recorded for posterity! She can’t wait to scroll through with Zeke, telling him stories about every single picture; he’ll be thrilled to know he didn’t ruin her high school years.

**_If_** _he calls_ , the sour, negative voice that took up residence in the back of her head reminds her.

Louise’s face falls back into it’s usual grumpy lines. She’s heard nothing from him for three months now. He even deactivated his online accounts. Not that he ever posted much anyway, but she’d take heart from the lamest meme. Something _._ _Anything._ It’s like he fell off the planet, and took all the color in her world with him. Not that her life is pointless without him, but everything is much flatter, duller, minus his presence. It's totally embarrassing how much joy and stability he brings to her life, but it's also the truth.

Louise checks the time.

_Midnight._

An eternity passes.

_12:01_

_He **said**_ _he’d call at 12:01. Why isn’t my phone ringing? Did he forget me?_

_12:02_

_I’m going to beat that idiot to death with his own shoes!_

Her phone trills. She hits the green button.

“ _Heyyyyy_ , babygirl!”

Louise’s shoulders, previously hunched up by her ears, fall naturally back into place as all the tension leaves her body in one swift _woosh_ , leaving her limp.

“You’re late.”


	2. TWO

The morning of her eighteenth birthday is every bit as chaotic as Louise anticipated. Louise surprised herself by falling asleep pretty quickly after she made it to bed, and she awakes more refreshed than she has in a long time, though she still plans to take a nap later. She and Zeke weren’t on the phone long last night; Louise doesn’t like talking on the phone, the weed was hitting her hard, and Zeke planned on heading back to Seymore’s Bay early.

_“I gotta finalize a few things, honey,” he told her._

_“Like what?”_

_“You’ll see.”_

The day starts with her favorite breakfast treat, peanut butter and banana pancakes, and a loud, off-key rendition of the birthday song from her family. Gene provides the music on his old keyboard, throwing in a few farts and dog barks for good measure, and Bob’s low, flat voice is all but drowned out by Linda’s enthusiastic honking. It’s terrible—they’re terrible—and Louise loves every second of it.

Her mother and brother handle the morning shift so Bob and Louise can go to the bank and take care of some business. Seated next to her father, across from the clerk, Louise tries to play it cool, but she’s practically bouncing with excitement in her chair. Her father’s turning her savings account over to her, and she’s signing paperwork so her name is on the business accounts. Soon, Louise will be in full control of the restaurant’s finances! (Of course, her parents will have oversight, as Bob has reminded her repeatedly.)

She carefully looks over her account statement, and turns in astonishment to her father, who’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Your mother and I talked it over. We decided to backdate your pay upgrade two months. You’ve earned it.”

Louise couldn’t agree more. Thanks to her, the restaurant is thriving, so much so that they actually hired three part-time employees. Being on two delivery service aps has skyrocketed their profits, and between that and her siblings being practically out of the house, her family can actually afford to pay her a livable but modest salary.

“Well, it’s not a car, but it’ll do,” she says with a wave of her hand.

Bob’s mustache twitches with a smile. “Maybe later. But for now, just keep the books balanced, okay? We…we trust you.”

Father and daughter bury past resentment with a single look.

Louise’s wide grin and glistening eyes speak volumes.

* * * * *

Seated on the couch that evening, waiting for Linda to finish primping, Bob can scarcely believe how far the restaurant’s come in the past six months. Now that they have regular, actual, non-family employees, the Belchers can afford to take Friday evenings off. Sure, he’ll probably pop down at the tail end of closing, but only because he wants to, not because he has to do so. He and Linda are going out tonight, this time to Jimmy Pesto’s. Pesto Senior reminded Bob yet again that the Belchers haven’t tried his new pizzas, and Bob agreed—over another night of too much alcohol—to give it a go. 

Louise is pretending that she isn’t staring out the front window, impatiently waiting for Zeke to arrive. Bob smiles at her. She looks quite grown up and lovely, albeit too thin, in a long, floaty red dress. Bob turns away from the overnight bag at her feet, trying hard not to think of the implications.

“Did he say where he’s taking you?”

Louise raises her eyebrows; this is the first time her father’s made any reference to Zeke.

“Uh-uh, he said it’s a surprise. But I should get a red dress—“ she gestures to the rental she picked up a few hours ago. “And he implied that it’s someplace fancy.”

Bob squirms a little, simultaneously glad that his little girl is being feted in style, and uncomfortable with the fact that his own idea of date night is pizza and beer at stupid Jimmy Pesto’s.

“Well, you look beautiful,” he says. “I hope you have a good time.”

“Thank— _there_ he is!”

Louise leaps to her feet. Her face radiant with a manic grin, she snatches her bag in one hand, her skirt in the other, and flies down the stairs. Bob hears her fling open the door, and two voices, Zeke’s deep shouts of hello, Louise’s shrill responses, echo up the stairwell.

Bob sighs. Louise kept her side of the bargain, and he intends to keep his; he doesn’t like or understand their relationship, but he will do his best to accept Zeke as part of Louise’s life. _No time to start like the present._ He takes a breath and heads to the stairs.

The door is still open, and they’re entwined in each other’s arms. Zeke’s wearing a dark, moss green suit, his hair cropped short and brushed forward in a Caesar’s cut, looking every bit the bruiser that he is. Louise appears almost fragile wrapped in his heavy arms. She’s bent her neck so they’re pressing their foreheads together.

“Am not,” she insists in a watery little voice, brushing a hand over her cheek.

“Well, I am,” Zeke admits, his voice husky, his nose a touch pink.

Bob clears his throat, bursting their bubble. They turn to him, and his eyes miss no detail of their response, not the way Louise takes a step closer to Zeke, or the way Zeke’s hand tightens at her waist. Louise stares defiantly at her father; Zeke gazes at him calmly but steadily. Bob knows this man is prepared to fight for Louise if he needs to do so. He won’t be easily chased away this time.

“Zeke.”

“Mr. Belcher.”

Bob considers the young man for a moment. “Be careful out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

A look is exchanged, a tacit understanding is reached.

Bob grunts and turns back to the living room.

He stands by the window and watches his daughter leave. The twosome walk hand-in-hand to the red pickup truck parked in front of the Belcher’s place, with Zeke carrying her bag. He opens the passenger door and offers her his hand: Louise, to Bob’s astonishment, accepts the gesture, seemingly without complaint, as gracefully as a queen. Zeke rounds the hood, opens the driver’s door, tosses her bag in the back of the cabin, and hops in.

Pressing his hand against the glass, Bob watches Zeke carefully pull into traffic. The head down to the Warf, then turn left, out of sight. Bob doesn’t know how long he stands there, tears in his eyes. This is like watching the kids take off on their two-wheel bikes, but bigger; his little girl is _gone_.

“Bobby?”

Startled, Bob turns. His wife looks especially pretty tonight in her black date-night dress, her hair, freshly dressed by Gretchen, soft and shiny.

“H-hey, Lin.”

Her smile is gentle and understanding. “Let’s go have some pizza.”

* * * * *

“Can you tell me where we’re going _now?_ ”

Zeke turns to her with an easy smile and gives her hand a squeeze between shifting gears. “Not yet, honey. I _will_ say we’re goin’ to Kingshead.”

Impatient as always, Louise sighs deeply, wishing he’d looked at her long enough for her puppy eyes to work their magic. But they’re caught in early Friday evening traffic on the way to the ferry, so his attention is mostly on the road.

Still, she smiles a little. Their first not-date date was also at Kingshead. She wonders if that’s part of the point.

Conversation flows easily between them the entire trip, and, once parked on the car ferry, her hand almost never leaves his. Louise tells him all about her graduation present from her family—a steady salary. Admittedly it’s not a large paycheck, and not much of a gift in general, compared to what some of her friends received, but for Louise, a regular income is better than Jessica’s trip to California.

“I took a look at yer Insta today,” he says, the spark in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. “That belly ring of yers sure looks cute.”

Louise’s smile is sly. “I didn’t know you liked them.”

“I didn’t either until I saw yers,” he says, already thinking about the jewelry he’ll buy for her for Christmas. He likes her nose piercing—he’s glad to see her wearing the little gold and diamond flower stud he gave her—but that belly piercing _does_ things to him.

“Well, why didn’t you like it when I posted it? I haven’t seen you on social in forever! It’s like you disappeared or something.”

“I took the aps off my phone.”

Louise raises an eyebrow.

“Ya know I ain’t got much impulse control. I knew if I started lookin’, I’d message ya, an’ I couldn’t do that.”

“Oh.”

He pulls into a parking spot on the pier. Zeke turns to her and cups her cheek in his hand, his eyes full to the brim with a fierce love. “I missed ya so much it hurt, Louise.”

She nods; Louise doesn’t trust her voice.

Zeke kisses her deeply, desperate to show her all the things he can’t articulate. Louise is better with words than he is but prefers to show rather than tell, and she understands him exactly, meets him halfway, with a kiss so passionate they’re both dizzy when they part.

Louise pulls back and smacks his bearded cheek, a quick, surprise pop. “Don’t you _ever_ leave me like that again,” she whispers hoarsely.

He brings a hand to his warm cheek, more shocked by the hurt on her face than the slap. “Never again,” he agrees.

* * * * *

“ _Swanky,_ ” Louise breathes as they step into the dining room.

She wasn’t sure what to expect, but a cruise on Kingshead Country Club’s dining ship wasn’t it. Everyone knows they’re expensive, and there’s a sizable waiting list too, because they don’t admit just anyone. In fact, she doesn’t know anyone who’s taken the two-hour long cruise around the Bay on this ship before. Truth to tell, she’s out of her league and she knows it. The place reeks of money— _old_ money—and she just barely makes the age cut. The dinner cruise is adults only, and, with the exception of some of the staff, she’s obviously the youngest person present. Still, Louise Belcher isn’t easily intimidated, and she’s wholly unwilling to admit to the feeling, though the rarified atmosphere makes her itch to act up. Naturally, she won’t embarrass herself or Zeke like that, though she does wish for a whoopee cushion or two. She and Zeke are lead over to a table by the window. Outside, the sun is slowly sinking into the sea in a blaze of orange and yellow.

“It’s a special occasion,” Zeke says, watching Louise as she spreads her napkin on her lap. “I gotta do somethin’ extra fer my girl.”

_Damn, does she look fine in the soft candlelight!_ She’s wearing red, as he’d requested, a sleeveless dress draped around her like some sort of Greek goddess, and she’s bedecked in the gold jewelry he’s given her over the years. Her curly hair—bouncier, a bit more polished than usual—frames a lightly made-up face he could stare at forever.

Louise blushes a little under his intense gaze. Were she one for compliments, she’d tell him how nice he looks, that she likes his new haircut, that the suit makes him look like a tough-guy mobster, and it’s hot as hell. She bites her lip; he’s almost handsome in her eyes. It occurs to her that, while his might not be the reason faces were invented, it’s entirely possible that his face was made just for her.

_Sap_ , she admonishes herself, and turns her attention to the menu. She ignores the turf section, because what kind of idiot eats steak on a sea cruise? The chef’s special is hand-written in fine calligraphy and clipped to the menu: Lobster Pot Pie. That’s weird! Louise decides to go for it.

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” Zeke tells her. “I’m thinkin’ about the grilled scallops.”

“I was looking at the lobster pot pie,” she says, now uncertain of her choice; scallops sound good too!

Zeke reads over the description, and his eyes widen. “Damn, I bet that sherry cream sauce is amazin’.”

“Why don’t we each get what we like and share?”

Zeke grins in agreement, and is about to suggest mussels crostini for an appetizer when the waiter, a man in his late twenties with a slightly haughty, professional demeanor, glides up to take their order.

“Welcome to the Kingshead Country Club Dining Experience, I’m Sean,” he says. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Zeke considers. “What do you recommend to go with grilled scallops?”

Sean doesn’t miss a beat. “I recommend the Chenin Blanc.”

“That and water,” Zeke decides.

Sean gives Louise a quick once-over. “And for the lady? Tea or lemon aide is an excellent accompaniment to our dishes. We can also turn most of our cocktails into mocktails if you’d prefer.”

She flushes a little, caught somewhere between irritation at being called out for her youth, and admiration for the smooth way he simultaneously acknowledged it and glossed over it. “Lemon aide and a water sounds great.”

Dinner is as special and elegant as Zeke hoped it would be. Louise, betraying her discomfort only by her ramrod posture, slowly eases at time progresses, and is completely relaxed by the time they split their dessert of crème brulee. She tells him all about the classes she hopes to take once registration begins in July, while Zeke reveals that he has his final interview for Head Chef at Dusty’s Feedbag four days from now.

“It’s a start,” he shrugs. He’d love to be Head Chef at someplace like this, but seafood isn’t his specialty, and he knows he doesn’t have the experience anyway. Still, Dusty’s would be a great position for a fresh culinary school grad, a stepping-stone for bigger things to come.

He smiles a little as Louise licks her fork, glad to see her enjoy her food. Zeke kept tabs on her though Jocelyn, who—bless her heart—had no idea he was pumping her for information. That being the case, he knew he would come home to a girl who was “like, really skinny.”

He frowns as he empties his wine glass: _I thought her people’d take better care of her_. She might not be “really skinny,” but Louise has obviously been struggling. Not that he’ll say anything about it; ladies, he knows, are very sensitive to any comments about their weight.

Well, he’s home now, so that’ll all change—nobody can look after his baby the way he can, anyway. They’re already off to a good start. The strained look around her eyes in all her Insta photos is gone, and she ate a good portion of dinner, even a little of the appetizer and half the dessert. Once he has a job secured they’ll get an apartment together, just like they’ve talked about, and he’ll make sure it’s constantly stocked with delicious things, now that he knows how stress effects her. Zeke’s already planning all the hearty meals he’ll cook for Louise—he’ll have her pink and blooming again in no time!

“What?”

Zeke flushes a little, realizing now he’s been staring at Louise.

“Just thinking how beautiful ya are, ‘specially in red.”

“Well, yeah, you know…” She flips her hair. “You’re pretty easy on the eyes too.”

Louise thinks for a minute, eyeing him with a calculated look that makes him feel vaguely guilty, though for what, he’s not sure. “Why red?”

“Well, yer…yer so purdy in red.”

Her eyes twinkle in the candlelight; Louise knows damn well he’s slathering on the Southern charm, and while she likes it, she’s not about to be misdirected by it, especially when he looks slightly caught out.

“I’m beautiful in any color. But why red—“

It hits her. She begins laughing.

“Zeke, you’ve only seen me in red once.”

“Well, honey...”

She reaches out and takes his rough hand. “You aren’t still jealous of the Pesto twins, are you?”

“No,” he scowls, unaware that he’s flexing a bit. “And I ain’t never thought about the three of ya in them prom pictures at all.”

Louise flushes; jealous Zeke is _exciting_. “Ready to go make some red-dress memories of our own?”

Zeke flashes her a sizzling look across the table.


	3. THREE

After a dinner so rich she could burst—seriously, Louise hasn’t eaten that heartily in _months_ —Zeke drives them to their hotel.

“I thought we’d stay in your cousin’s basement.”

“Hell naw,” Zeke chuckles. “That ain’t fancy enough for tonight. And he dropped the lease anyway. I’m stayin’ with Mudflap n’ Critter fer now.”

Louise is surprised when they turn into the parking lot of a tall, sprawling Victorian building on the shore. “The Royal Lodges?”

Zeke grins proudly. The Royal Lodges is arguably the nicest hotel in the tri-state area, a popular location for wealthy honeymooners. Old-timey actress Lillie Langtry was a semi-regular visitor, and local legend has it she and Edward VII spent a clandestine weekend there, which is why the owners changed the name in the nineteen-oughts. Louise is more inclined to believe in the sea creature known as Warfy, but it makes a good story.

“Well yeah, I mean, it’s a special night, ain’t it?” He parks the truck and turns to her with a loving look Louise can clearly see even under the streetlights. Zeke takes her hand and plays with her long fingers. “I mean, you n’ me, we’re officially together an’ exclusive now, ain’t we? An’ yer eighteen, an’ ya graduated. We got a lot to celebrate.”

Officially together and exclusive; she likes the sound of that. His extended absence made it clear to Louise how much she needs Zeke in her life--he does as much to keep her balanced as her family does. She hates to admit she's become reliant on anyone, but Louise, who likes to play it fast and loose with the truth in general, tries to be radically honest with herself. Then she remembers the conversation they had at the faire, about discarding condoms. Is he still okay with that? And why, after all this time, and all the things they’ve done together, can she not have an adult conversation about sex without dying of embarrassment? She feels herself blushing. “Yeah. I…uh, I was tested, so, you know…I’m clean. Just so you know.”

Zeke stares at her a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“What? I’m being polite! Unless you don’t still want to—“

“Yeah, I still want ya raw,” he chuckles. It’s not often he sees Louise discomforted, and he loves it—she’s so cute and vulnerable. “I brought some condoms just in case, but I want ya to be my first like that. Poppin’ each other’s cherries!”

Of course, he wants her to be his _only_ like that, but Zeke doesn’t mention that part.

“Do you have to be so crude about it?” Louise mutters, eyes on her lap.

He lifts her chin, but can’t quite make his tomato-red girlfriend meet his eyes. “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

Zeke swallows hard and gives her chin a pinch. “We better git inside before I bend that sweet ass of yers over the hood.”

“Just like old times, huh?”

* * * * *

Zeke takes his turn in the bathroom first. All he needs to do is to brush his teeth and give himself a quick cleanup, but Louise will take forever, with all her lotions and potions and whatnot. Not that he blames her—ladies are like that—and God knows he likes the results. He makes a mental note to make sure their apartment bathroom has plenty of storage space.

When he comes out, he finds that Louise has already attacked the bowl of Sticky Sugar Booms he had set up prior to their arrival.

“Catch,” she orders around a mouthful of candy and tosses the wrapper at him.

It falls short of her target. She cackles with laughter as she rushes past him with her bag clutched to her chest and shuts the door behind her.

Zeke tosses the wrapper in the trash. He takes off his shoes and socks and aligns them neatly under the desk chair. Next to go are his jacket, tie, and dress shirt, all draped on the same chair. He takes in the room with satisfaction; it's all money well spent.

The honeymoon suite was already claimed, but this room is almost as nice. There’s a four-poster king sized bed, a desk, and a TV, which he turns on and flips channels until he finds a light jazz station. He lights the candles he requested, and turns off the lights. Zeke opens the blinds and takes a moment to enjoy the ocean view, glad for their own private balcony. He turns and looks around, satisfied that the atmosphere is as romantic as he can make it, right down to champagne chilling in a bucket and red roses in the vase on the dresser. Not that Louise is much of a flower person but…well, other ladies get flowers from their men, so Louise must, too. Zeke has no regrets about the cost or the favors he had to call in to make this—like the rest of the night—perfect.

He looks in the mirror and smooths down his hair. Okay, he’ll admit it; he’s nervous. Excited, sure, but nervous too; his “jokes” about loosing their virginities to each other have more truth to them than he’ll admit. He’s still convinced that Louise is his future wife, and, now that she’s of age, the _real_ wooing can begin. Zeke has to do everything he possibly can to convince her they belong together forever.

The bathroom door opens, and Louise emerges, wearing a sheer white babydoll negligee with a g-string underneath, the lacy hem grazing her upper thighs. He can see the curved, steel barbell piercing in her belly button glistening in the candlelight. She strikes a pose.

Zeke gazes at her blankly, his jaw a bit slack, his system clearly fried from the sight, and Louise lifts her chin, grinning triumphantly. She bought this outfit on a whim, along with some other lacy things she plans to show him, piece by piece, when he proves he deserves it.

“You made such a deal about the two of us _loosing our virginities to each other_ , I thought…”

He’s still silent; she’s sure he hasn’t blinked. Uncertainty kicks in. Louise knows she doesn’t look her best right now, too thin, all elbows and knees. Zeke’s always liked heavier, more mature, even blatantly matronly figures. _What if--?_

“I mean, am I okay?”

Zeke blinks and gives a little shake, willing his brain to come back on line. He nods vigorously and steps forward. He grips her hips with shaking hands.

“Yer perfect,” he manages to choke out, and captures her lips in a kiss before he can do something stupid, like ask— _demand_ —that she join him on a plane to Vegas that night and marry him.

Zeke lifts her up and carries her to bed. Louise makes him want to do all sorts of wild, romantic things, and he will do every one of them tonight. He will kiss her a sonnet; write her a whole album of love songs with his body, because finally, after all this time, Louise Belcher is truly, thoroughly his.

* * * * *

A short while later, Louise unscrews the cap of the champagne and pours herself a glass. She tastes it, and decides that, while no alcoholic drink can compare with weed, champagne is a tasty way to get buzzed. Louise cringes a little at the wetness seeping out from between her legs. It adds to the discomfort of the tightness of unspent desire coiled deep inside of her. Dang, she’s already cleaned herself up—did he shoot an ocean up there?

Zeke, she observes, is still sulking like Achilles in his tent, rolled onto his side away from her. Frowning a little, because she isn’t very good at comforting others, Louise slips into bed and rubs his shoulder with a cool hand.

“Come on, it happens.”

He sighs and rolls over, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes. Instead, he notes the champagne and motions for her to pass the glass. She does and he takes a sip. He frowns.

“I wanted good stuff, not this crap,” he mutters. “Fuckin’ screw-cap piss.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him.

“No, it ain’t! I’m gonna talk to someone about this tomorrow.”

Louise strokes his hair, knowing he won’t calm down if he doesn’t talk about the elephant in the room. “Look, you aren’t the first guy to…uh…pop his cork a little early.”

He blinks at her, then huffs a little laugh. _Pop his cork?_

“Well, I ain’t done it since—well, when have you known me to do that?”

She sighs, knowing he’s right. Zeke is very much a ladies first sort of man when it comes to sex. She was astonished when, scarcely a minute into things, he gazed down at her with a frantic look.

_“Oh baby, I can’t—baby I’m gonna—“_

And boom went the dynamite.

“Well, you wanted us to loose our virginities to each other, right? Don’t most guys—I mean, you’ll have to learn to pace yourself all over again. And you aren’t going to leave me like this.”

Zeke chuckles a little, hearing the demand in her voice at the last part. “You know I ain’t, just give me a few.”

“It’s kind of a compliment,” she adds.

“Well, I can do better,” he mutters. Zeke sighs, trying to shake it off. It’s not like he can undo the past, and Louise, while frustrated, isn’t angry with him.

“C’mere,” he gestures, and Louise curls up in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

“Guess I _do_ gotta learn to pace myself,” he admits, his natural optimism taking over. “Now we’re together, we’ll git a nice li’l apartment an’ I’ll practice as much as ya want. Mr. Fischoeder just bought a new building, a few blocks from yer parent’s place. Let’s go look at it tomorrow!”

Louise stiffens in his arms. This isn’t how she wanted to tell him, but it’s probably better to drop the bomb now than let him get his hopes up. She sits up a little and takes a breath, bracing herself.

“I already got an apartment near campus. I’m rooming with my friend Daniel.”

Zeke bolts up, knocking Louise onto her back. “ _Do whut?!?_ ”

She knew he would be disappointed, even irritated, but she did not expect the cold rage she sees on his brick-red face. Louise sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Yer tellin’ me yer gonna live with another man?”

“He’s a _roommate_ —you know, separate rooms. I met him through the Gay-Straight Alliance Club. Trust me, he has _no_ interest in me like that. It’ll be like rooming with Gene.”

Zeke is clearly unconvinced. “I don’t care if he ain’t touched pussy in his life! If ya want to dump me just say so!”

“I don’t want to dump you!” How could he be stupid enough to think a thing like that? “I want us to be exclusive, I told you that!”

“Then why the _fuck_ would ya do this to me? I thought we were movin’ in together! We’ve talked an’ talked about it!”

“ _You were gone, Zeke!_ ”

Something in her voice, a ragged desperation, makes him pause and look at her.

“You were gone for months and months, and I didn’t know if you’d come back to me, and home’s been such shit, a-a-and the nightmares about…that night…those guys…and everyone’s going away and leaving me, and now that I have a salary…he offered, I took him up on it.”

Still crackling with anger, Zeke recalls the pictures he saw of her, hollow-eyed and strained. Hell, he only has to look at the woman in front of him, still beautiful but bony, and see how badly she pined for him. It’s that idea—that she _suffered_ from his absence, all to keep him out of prison—more than anything else, that allows him to take a deep breath and will himself to calm down a little bit.

“But yer movin’ in with another man, Louise. I thought _we_ were gonna git an apartment.”

“We can still do that, after my lease is up.”

“It ain’t the same an’ you know it,” he grumbles. He gathers his courage; he might not like the answer, but he has to ask the question. Zeke takes her hand.

“Are you _sure_ ya ain’t tryin’ to ditch me? I—I can take it if I gotta—“

Louise feels her own temper starting to rise. “I _told_ you, I don’t want to ditch you, I want to be with you _exclusively!_ Idiot! Come on, haven’t I proved that tonight? You’re still leaking out of me!”

A flame flickers in his eyes. “Show me.”

“Oh my God,” Louise groans.

“It ain’t like I haven’t seen ya nekkid before.” A muscle twitches in his jaw; he won’t be denied. “Show me.”

Irritated, sexually frustrated, she’s even more vulnerable than usual to Zeke’s dominant, predatory side.

“Then why do you need to see me now?” she protests softly, settling back on the bed, holding the sheet to her chest with a loose hand.

Hovering over her, Zeke rips the sheet from Louise’s slack grip, leaving her bare. He motions for her to spread her legs; she does, her eyes never leaving his face. Zeke runs a light hand over her belly, gently ghosting her piercing, and she shivers, unaware that her hips are gently rocking at his touch. His big hand slides lower, and he dips his fingers between her legs, strokes her, slips inside of her. Louise arches her back and cries a shuddering moan as she rides his fingers, far too worked up to think about the wanton, blatantly pornographic show she’s putting on for him. All that matters is her need, and the fingers that know just the right way to touch her. Too soon, he pulls them out and, whimpering, she watches with lust-glazed eyes as he hold up his fingers, observing the viscous mixture coating them.

“I love you,” she whispers hoarsely, a trembling hand ghosting his shoulder. “I love you so fucking much, I just want to be with you, Zeke, I promise. I’ll show you, I—“

She swallows, and the next words are more mouthed than spoken: “ _I need you._ ”

Zeke rolls on top of her, slides into Louise with a groan, and they make up in the best way they know how. This time, the results are satisfactory for both involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and so on.
> 
> The next couple of stories will be shorter, slice-of-life type works. The one coming up will be about Louise and her new apartment.


End file.
